


It's always darkest before the dawn

by Nikk04



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Being alone sucks, Insomnia, Memories are hurtful, Mild Amnesia, New York, Not remembering something sucks more, Sleepless night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikk04/pseuds/Nikk04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's having a sleepless night and he keeps getting back to the point that he forgot something really important to him. Revising his life and re-evaluating his choices, he finally remembers the hurtful truth. And he wishes to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's always darkest before the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a video teaser I have seen on tumblr.
> 
> And I had the urge to write this one-shot.
> 
> Hope you'll like it. :)
> 
> (non-betad, so I really appreciate the comments.)

The saying “it’s always darkest before the dawn” always made him shiver with disgust. What the hell did that mean? It’s always the same dark at night, and it does not matter if it’s 11:00 pm or 4:30 am. It is always that secretive darkness that hides the lovers and the sad, depressed people; it’s the one that conceals the problems of the world only to help them drown the pain and sorrow into liquid. Preferably alcoholic.

As he stands by the French window and observes the city that never sleeps, he can only think of the fact that it is fucking dark, just as it was two hours ago. Or it is not dark at all, since New York is lit up every night of the year like a Christmas Tree. You cannot see the night sky, you cannot concentrate on the darkness and the vastness of the space, since you cannot even decipher how far it is. It is alit and cheerful and playful and makes sure that every living soul who’s not asleep can feel the warm embrace of the city.

If you want to have nostalgic feelings do not ever visit New York. Or if you do visit, reschedule your misery since the city’s only mocking the fool desperate souls who need comfort. You’re lucky if you can get somewhere peaceful and quiet to gnaw on your hurting areas. And it’s not just only about the money. It’s much more about finding the perfect spot where you can stand or sit or lay down and you’re able to pour out your devastated soul to connect with the spirits of nature. And together you might be able to solve the mystery of the heart.

“What a fucking bullshit!” Murmurs Tony as he sips a good portion of brandy.

He stands at that single point in the past three hours and tries to assess the damage. He does not remember something really, very, enormously important however hard he tries to. And in moments like this, he usually questions his genius mind to say at least.

Because his mind is everything to him. It was there since the day he remembers and it will be there when everything fades away. It is the only thing (in himself) he can count on. And currently it fails him in the need. He knows, he swears it’s one of the most important information in existence he cannot recall. He just needs a lead, probably a little hint to get to the point. But he cannot and it makes him very angry and nervous at the same time.

In the past few hours he revised his motives in life and did not get anywhere near the information. He thought about his childhood, high school, the MIT, the first years as CEO, everything. And one point, one nerve-wreckingly significant information cannot click into the puzzle.

He only got to the events of Afghanistan. He despises the thought to go back there, but probably he’ll be able to find the solution in the hidden, cold caves. Of course he does not want to go back there literally, but metaphorically it still seems a manageable solution.

So off he goes. He relives his capture, the blood oozing through his shirt by the sharpnels sticking from his entrails. He can almost feel it all over again. And he does not want to go there. But it’s a must.

The roller-coaster of the memory wears off in about half an hour. It’s still 4:45, and the winter sun is still not showing its mocking face. He’s not tired, he’s not sleepy. He just wants to get to know to the point where the great “Ah-ha” comes and can fall into the bed to turn off for four or five hours.

Then he’ll start again whatever the hell he was doing before he ended up here in the living room, drinking. As always he drinks. When he was in a bad mood he drank. Heart-broken? He drank. Promotion? He never actually felt the pleasure of getting higher on the career ladder, since he always was a CEO. The future… well it might change. So he celebrated the fact that he always was a CEO, with drinking. And the list goes on and on.

Now he is not drunk. He only holds the glass in his hand for support. The brandy is lukewarm in it, and he cannot remember how long it is in this condition. He sips occasionally to maintain the feeling of alcohol on his tongue, but he does not have any other intentions. It is so late at night (or early in the morning) that getting drunk would be considered a waste.

“JARV, when rises the sun?” He asks his AI and turns around to walk to the leather couch facing the same direction.

“6:35 am, Sir.” Answers the mechanic butler obediently. “And dawn is at 5:57 am.”

His limbs are heavy and stiff from standing in the same position for such a long time. He might limp a little bit, since he cannot feel his right leg properly.

He sits down slowly and puts the tumbler to the glass coffee table to get rid of it. He will not drink it in the near future that is clear to him. He does not want to drink because he needs every brain cell he has to try and remember. Remember. Remember. Remember. The chanting does not help either.

Angrily he lies down and puts a pillow on his head to scream his frustration into it. He could shout as much and as loud as he wants because he’s all alone in the vast of space called Stark Tower. Pepper’s somewhere in California, most certainly in Malibu, where she sleeps carefree and peacefully, preparing herself for the next day of hard work. Happy’s there as well, assisting her as the new head of security. And Rhodey’s somewhere in Europe, at one of the German or Dutch or French military bases.

Life goes on for everyone. It does not go on for him. He feels stuck in the moment and cannot wake up from this walking nightmare. He either wants to remember or forget that he forgot something. It’s so simple. It is not much to ask for at all. He could live with it! He could live with the fact that he forgot what he forgot. But he can’t and it’s eating him alive.

Okay so he could not find it in Afghanistan either. Well the night’s still long and he still has his brain working on full throttle. He remembers Obie, Justin Hammer, the proposal of SHIELD. And nothing pops up like a billboard to advertise what he is searching for. 

Maybe this something he forgot is in the near past. Maybe it has something to do with the Avengers. Or most probably his mind’s playing a game with him that he cannot really get out of. Probably it’s total and utter exhaustion he’s facing. And it comes down like he forgot something.

“JARVIS, light up the mood a bit?” He says finally at 5:13 am.

“What would you like me to do, Sir?” The AI asks, waiting for a manageable command.

“At first literally light up the room ‘cause it’s getting depressing.” Answers Tony tiredly and drops the pillow to the wooden floor.

The cacophony of lights almost make him blind and he cannot do anything else than grunt as he hides his eyes behind his hands.

“Less light!! Less light!!” He shouts desperately. His eyes are stinging and watering from the violence they had suffered. “Jesus, JARV, you wanna kill me, I’m pretty sure!”

“Why would I want to, Sir?” Asks the AI almost cheekily.

“Only the lamp by the bar, please.” Sighs Tony and lets his hands fall to his sides.

He turns his head towards the city and sees the tumbler on the table acting like a little prism. The rainbow image is tiny and sweet and the colours can be easily determined. 

Red as the suit. Orange as the sun. Yellow as a daisy. Green as grass. Blue as the sky. Violet as an aubergine.

Red as the suit. Orange as the sun. Yellow as a daisy. Green as grass. Green as emeralds. Green as eyes. Green as magic. Green as…

Loki.

He sits straight up and realizes that he actually forgot Loki. The black of his hair, the white of his skin, the green of his eyes. The curve of his lips as he mockingly sneers at him. The tall, slim figure of his, towering over him. 

The panting, the scratching, the bruising and the moaning in the dead of the dark. The secret rendezvous in the silent, lonely nights. The shared but untold feelings. The caring. And the inevitable end of everything.

He feels as a barricade breaks through in his mind and cannot contain his excitement as the memories flood his mind.

He remembers everything.

And suddenly the numb pain fills his mind. He knows where it comes from and does not want to go there. But unfortunately people tend to be masochists and also their mind is so simple and straightforward that they cannot block the memories and ideas they want to.

The event of Thor inviting them to the execution of Loki is playing right in front of his eyes, and it’s killing him. He did not want to go. He ought not to go. He only wanted to stay in his living room and drink himself into oblivion. He feels as a single teardrop streams down his face. No, he does not want to remember that horrible and awful day. He definitely wants to forget it again and never to bring it up ever.

But the machine’s in gear now and he can only enjoy the show. Probably if he starts to drink heavily, chugging down a bottle of vodka or rum in mere minutes he will not be present to witness the beheading of Loki again.

He tries to stand up, but is paralyzed. He cannot move, just stare into the abyss of the night sky. The mocking of the city lights are unbearable.

“JARVIS! Lights out and make it pitch black, NOW!” He commands, but it only comes out as a whimper.

Though it doesn’t matter because in the next minute he sits in the darkness and the hours in Asgard are materializing in front of him as a play on the Broadway.

He always wanted to visit the home of the deity. He talked a lot about it with Loki when they had some spare hours in the bed, still bathing in the afterglow of their intercourse. He was so hung up on the tales Loki had told him and he could not wait to be able to visit.

He only remembers the five minutes he spent with Loki. The chained and cuffed figure hurled into the room, bleeding from several wounds and seeming so heavily exhausted that Tony did not even know how he survived that long. The paper white pale skin was almost fluorescence in the darkness of the cell.

They let him say goodbye to him. But only him. They did not let anyone else from the Avengers to stay alone with the god. And he was more than thankful to have a proper farewell with his ex-lover.

If he concentrates hard he could still remember the taste of Loki’s dry lips and the eagerness of the kiss. The wish to never-end the encounter was so painfully hanging in the air that Tony almost made a stupid mistake trying to break out the deity. 

But he came to his senses.

Loki was evil. He killed hundreds of people and tried to conquer Earth. He would only do the same. Sometimes they fucked, yes, it happened. But he could not risk the future of his planet because of the needs of his dick.

Instead he only embraced the soon-to-be-dead god and tried to file his trademark scent for the future. He could not hope to have any garment from him, and asking Thor for it could have ended as a death wish. I mean, he fucked his baby brother, who by the way was a fugitive at those times. Oops.

“Anthony!” Loki said urgently because they had only a minute left. The god cupped the billionaire’s face and bent down to gently push his forehead to Tony’s. “I still have a little magic and I want to make it better to you. I want to spare you from the loss. So please open your mind and let me take care of you.” The god was now talking so quickly that Tony’s mind hardly could understand what he just said. “You will forget me after you return to Earth. You will not remember anything that happened between us. Even though sometimes you’ll have the feeling that something’s not in place, but I’ll try to hide my presence in your mind as good as I am able to do so.”

Tony did not say anything, just closed his eyes and clanged to Loki’s waist with both hands.

He only remembers the crimson of Loki’s blood on the marble floor as they beheaded him. And the thud that the falling head made.

Red as blood. Orange as the setting suns of Asgard. Yellow as his vomit on the ground. Green as Loki’s oh so beautiful and magical eyes. Blue as the ice-cold skin of a Jotun (the one Loki morphed to after having his head separated from his body).

Violet as the dawning sky over New York.

He cannot decide how long he sat there motionless, watching as the city woke from its never-deep slumber. He can only see the head falling to the ground and rolling towards them. The crimson colouring the floor and damping the hem of Thor’s cape. And the blue skin, the true form of Loki.

“Sir, your 9:30 am appointment is here.” Announces JARVIS into the stillness of the living room.

“I can’t do this.” Tony blurts out with a pained expression. “Tell him or her to reschedule!”

“I am sorry, Sir, but he is already at the 26th.” The AI answers hastily.

“Who the hell is it anyways?” Sighs the billionaire.

“Mr. Leroy’s applying as your new PA. Ms. Potts considered him the only capable applicant for the position, based on his references. Your approval is the only step to have him hired.”

Oh, great. Some smartass PA to have him under supervision when Pep’s outta town.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure!” Says somebody from the other end of the room. His deep voice echoes through the room and resonates in Tony.

He knows this voice! He heard it so much! He listened to it as magical stories and creatures took over his mind.

He turns his head to face the man standing by the elevator door and freezes.

He’s tall, and slim. Slacked back, middle length black hair frames his delicate face with emerald eyes and cheekbones so sharp they almost tore through the skin.

“You fucking kidding me right now…!” Blurts out Tony, mesmerized by the creature standing right in front of him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?” Asks the man innocently.

“Is that fucking you, you asshole?!” Tony’s already on his feet, rushing towards the man.

“I’m not sure, you’re thinking of the right person.” Says the man cautiously.

“Loki! Don’t fucking do this to me!” Scolds him Tony and stands right in front of the man.

They eye each other strictly.

“I brought my CV and references, Mr. Stark.” The man finally interrupts the silence. He starts digging in his shoulder bag and pulls out a stack of clipped papers.

Tony takes them hesitantly.

The first page is a scheme CV with the picture of the man (a strict, professional one) and the basic data. Name, birthdate, contacts, education and professional experience.

Thomas Leroy, 1982. august 17th. British boy.

But just a boy, nothing else.

“I thought, you’d be more impressed by my qualities.” Thomas quietly says.

“Well, I’m impressed by some of your qualities.” Answers Tony with a flirting smile.

The boy is hardly able to stand his ground and his lily white face is blossoming with a blush. A tiny smile is hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“As you see, I studied project management and organizational development at Brown and…” Starts blabbering the boy.

“You’re hired.” Tony says simply and turns around to leave to the kitchen. “You can start now.”

“I am not prepared, umm, what am I able to do for you now?” Thomas answers confused.

“An omelette with bacon, please. JARV will help you with the details, you hear it, J?”

“Yes, Sir. Here Mr. Leroy, I’ll help you.”

The boy and JARVIS chat as they enter the kitchen. Tony only grabs a glass of OJ and walks out to the balcony to watch the city flutter with noise and light.

The saying is true: it is definitely darkest before the dawn.


End file.
